This is a quick sketch of Yale’s campus from Paul Rudolph’s A+A Building, the top floor cafe, done as a grad student many years ago. A recent renovation has made the former low-rent cafe on the top floor back into a visiting scholar’s residence. As a financially-strapped grad student, I’m afraid I ate a lot of egg salad sandwiches and bagels up there, the cheapest, if not freshest, things on the menu. Most of my two years there you could look down on the campus and see the continuous repairing of slate roofs – 6 guys standing on a roof with one guy working.

I believe the builidng in the center here is Sterling Library, a hybrid of cathedral and warehouse.

Sketch by Mark Gerwing, 1993 or so.

]]>http://mgerwingarch.com/2015/02/21/yale-1993/feed/0Bryant Webster Elementary School, Denverhttp://mgerwingarch.com/2015/02/16/bryant-webster-elementary-school-denver/
http://mgerwingarch.com/2015/02/16/bryant-webster-elementary-school-denver/#commentsMon, 16 Feb 2015 20:33:12 +0000http://mgerwingarch.com/?p=7134On the heels of a post about the amazing masonry of the Mullen Building, designed by Temple Hoyne Buell in 1933, I discovered an even more spectacular brick building that takes masonry construction and design to places I have never quite seen before. The Bryant Webster Elementary School in Denver’s North Highlands neighborhood was designed by architect -brothers J. Roger and G. Meredith Musick in 1930.

G. Meredit Musick was a well-connected Denver architect and executed a number of interesting buildings. However, much of the design work of his office was done by his brother James Roger Musick.

The building is a daring and inventive mass of brick, jutting skyward like jagged sandstone pillars and dancing along with abstract motifs of arrows, bison and Native American imagery. Unlike its eclectic contemporaries that can be tossed into strange stylistic categories like Pueblo Deco or Mayan Revival, the Bryant Webster School feels like pure imagination and invention. It is certainly some of the most remarkable manipulation of brick masonry that I have seen, with friezes and patterns interlocking and weaving across the facades. Even the great bulk of the windowless gymnasium is treated with a robust rythym of arrow-shaped brick motifs and undulating wall surfaces.

I think this building is magnificent, if not a bit dark and a bit looming. The real genius here is not in the fantastic patterns and colors of brick however, it is in the careful balance that is struck in the vertical and horizontal massing.

The two entrances are masses of vertical spires split the horizontal long facade of banded windows. The brick at these entrances is equally falling down from the sky as it is stretching up from the earth. The subtle shifts of the brick patterns, slightly projecting and recessing brick units, dematerializes the wall while the changing color of the brick, from deep red to dark bronze, feels like dappled shadows playing across canyon walls.

At the main entrance, the brick goes so far as to break away in pillars from the wall surface, like masonry stalagtites, dripping down from cavern ceilings. It is remarkable to see such a deft play of brick surfaces, from slight, subtle patterns and colors, to massive forms and free-standing pillars of striking plasticity. And this great orgy of brick is not some wild mason’s nightmarish vision, rather it is carefully designed and balanced with tension and repose to make the overall composition subtle and powerful, full of robust self-assurance and nuanced presence.

And this is no amber-preserved museum piece. It is a City of Denver Landmark, but it is also an everyday, working elementary school in a mixed neighborhood. That we should make such fantastic buildings now and imbue them with care and craft and pride.

]]>http://mgerwingarch.com/2015/02/16/bryant-webster-elementary-school-denver/feed/0architect’s pet peeves no. 17 – fake quoinshttp://mgerwingarch.com/2015/01/29/architects-pet-peeves-no-17-fake-quoins/
http://mgerwingarch.com/2015/01/29/architects-pet-peeves-no-17-fake-quoins/#commentsThu, 29 Jan 2015 16:30:00 +0000http://mgerwingarch.com/?p=7121“Quoins” are the exposed stone pieces that you sometimes see stacking up only on the corner of a building. They sometimes look like a zipper applied to the corner edges of a structure. And their use today is odd and usually fake and is trying to allude to traditional masonry construction and presumably the sense of durability, solidity and timelessness that implies.

Quoins provide a kind of emphasis, a visual boldness, to the corners of a building and tend to make the building feel more solid, more object-like. However, like so many elements of architecture that appear to be merely stylistic touches, they have an origin in a construction technology.

Quarrying stone has always been a difficult and expensive proposition. Making a stone building out of the stone that are scattered around the field and forest is a much easier proposition but results in a random rubble type wall. When that random rubble wall has to turn a corner, the stone of differing sizes and shapes create a visual and technological problem. Because of its ragged line it collects water, because of the use of small, varied stone, they easily pop off the corner when exposed to the elements from two sides. Quoins of cut stone were used to contain the edges of stone walls and help solve these exposed corner problems. Being cut stone they stack nicely and cleanly on each other and their consistent size and shape they solidly and securely hold the corner true and vertical.

However, this technological use of quoins has long been forgotten and they are merely stylistic touches now applied without much subtlety to buildings. You can see fake stone quoins, face brick quoins, wood quoins trying to look like stone quoins, and best yet, EIFS (fake stucco) quoins, in buildings all over the country.

“cast” stone quoins on parade

wood “stone” quoins; actually as you can see, quite an old fakery often used by New England ship captains to give their wood houses a sense of class

fake stucco and foam quoins

Let’s all try to be a bit more judicious in our use of quions. Let’s not fake them using stucco and foam, and certainly, let’s only use them on masonry buildings. They are not simply another style product to be plucked out of Ye Olde House Stuff catalogs and glued to a building.

Built in 1933, the Mullen Building was designed as a nursing school and dormitory by Denver architect Temple Hoyne Buell. Buell was from Chicago and like so many Coloradans, came out West for the treatment of tuberculosis. (I’m sure there is fascinating doctoral work out there on how some city’s and regions were founded by a disease trajectory. Much of Boulder’s early history is directly tied to health, well-being and the founding of sanatariums for TB victims.)

The Mullen Building is an art deco fantasy, more specifically it is one of the best examples of that strange stylistic hybrid that is vaguely Mayan/Aztec Revival Art Deco. The vertical bands of dark red brick blast up the facade and over the top of the building’s parapet and are oddly akin to a Mayan headress, albeit executed in abstracted brick geometry. Frank Lloyd Wright’s Hollyhock house in LA is probably the most well-known example of this kind of stylistic appropration, but the Mayan Theatre, also in Los Angeles, built in 1927, is a building that may have influenced Buell. (Denver’s Mayan Theatre of 1930 is a another example of Mayan Revival architecture, but one that is explicitly kitsch and although remarkable, likely not an influence for Buell)

The masony work is truly remarkable. Almost entirely constructed from standard, modular bricks, the fanciful plasticity of the window bands and especially the entry surround, undulates and flows like masonry rarely seems possible. It as if a very disciplined, obsessive kid spent a long, cold weekend stacking their lego blocks, one after one. This kind of brickwork is often described as “waterfall” brick, but I hardly think that term does justice to the resolution of this work. Certainly the brick seems to cascade down the facade, but its simultaneous ascending dynamism sets up a delicate balance that is tempered by the soft, blond brick expanses. It certainly is the most exciting dormitory I have ever seen, an exuberant expression of what brick can do and how proud a modest building can be.

I understand the interior is chock full of amazing decorative ceilings and floors, all echoing the strong geometry of the exterior. Maybe another visit soon and I will post some more photos.

]]>http://mgerwingarch.com/2015/01/19/mullen-building/feed/0Westminster University buildinghttp://mgerwingarch.com/2015/01/04/westminster-university-building/
http://mgerwingarch.com/2015/01/04/westminster-university-building/#commentsSun, 04 Jan 2015 22:00:37 +0000http://mgerwingarch.com/?p=7074On the east side of US36 that runs between Boulder and Denver, is a large, hulking building that you can just see above the suburban sprawl of car lots and muffler shops. This massive stone building is currently a Christian school but in its early life it was home to a Presbyterian college called Westminster University.

Built in 1893, the red sandstone structure sits atop Crown Point and commands a panoramic view to the west. Long before the Boulder-Denver turnpike was built, this grand building was isolated on the rolling prairie and must have been an impressive, if not imposing, sight.

The original design of the building was by architect E. B. Gregory, but the money and guiding force behing the project, New York philanthropist Henry Mayhem, asked the famous Stanford White of McKim, Mead and White, to redesign the structure. It does have some of the romantic, sculptural quality of other works of White, but it is a far cry from his usually cool, classical compositions. Utilizing the local sandstone may have pushed White into a design more Richardsonian than his usual Beaux-Arts style. The main entrance of the building is directly under the tallest tower and has a curious, curving drum as its base that circles around asymmetrically to the east.

Henry Mayham choose the site and purchased the surrounding land and construction on the building began on June 6, 1892. The construction of the building started and stopped a few times as a direct result of the boom-and-bust silver mining economy and the building wasn’t completed and occupied until 1908. (Stanford White was famously killed by a jealous husband in 1906, so this building, like so many others, was completed after his early death at age 53.)

After closing during WWI, the building went through a couple of owners, including use as a chicken coop, and since 1920 has been owned and operated by the Belleview Schools/Pillar of Fire organization. The building looks to be in excellent condition and let’s hope their careful stewardship carries through a long future.

( much of the info above can be found in Justin Price’s survey of the property and historical context: http://www.ci.westminster.co.us/Portals/0/Repository/Documents/ExploreWestminster/Pillar%20of%20Fire%20Survey%20Report%20(add%20appendices).pdf)

]]>http://mgerwingarch.com/2015/01/04/westminster-university-building/feed/0South Boulder renovation and additionhttp://mgerwingarch.com/2014/12/16/south-boulder-renovation-and-addition-2/
http://mgerwingarch.com/2014/12/16/south-boulder-renovation-and-addition-2/#commentsTue, 16 Dec 2014 17:41:36 +0000http://mgerwingarch.com/?p=7066Construction is well under way on a complete renovation and second story addition to a simple South Boulder ranch house.

The original house is a simple, 1,200 sf, single-story rectangular box with a simple, single gabled roof.

This is fairly typical for not only South Boulder, but a vast majority of developer-driven builder homes constructed throughout the United States in the 1960s and 70s. It is the most basic of this generation of suburban structures, a simple rectangular box, and as such it is considerably easier to find design solutions for additions and renovations than many of its split-level or tri-level cousins.

As I have posted about previously, the City of Boulder has a number of fairly restrictive zoning ordinances that limit the size and location of additions based on lot size and orientation. These restrictions go hand-in-hand with Boulder’s rising household income as they do in most places, reflecting a desire to control growth and protect property values. And, like you can imagine, these zoning restrictions have unintended consequences that are slowly transforming the physical artifact that is the city.

On this project, the restrictions actually work to our client’s advantage, constraining the second-story addition to the south side of the property where the best views are accessed. The proposed covered front porch does have to bend to Boulder’s odd rules, dictating posts on a porch that would otherwise be cantilevered which would have been better conforming with the modern language of the architecture.

By angling the second story off the orthagonal geometry of the existing main level, the upper story rooms take better advantage of spectacular flatirons views and open the rear yard to a spreading courtyard.

The construction is almost completely framed and the building can be seen in its final form, but there are months of electrical, plumbing, mechanical and finish work ahead. ACI, our design/build arm, is in charge of the construction management for the project and the client’s input has been, and will continue to be, the driving force on the overall design. Check back in for future updates.

]]>http://mgerwingarch.com/2014/12/16/south-boulder-renovation-and-addition-2/feed/0Sunshine Canyon courtyard househttp://mgerwingarch.com/2014/11/10/sunshine-canyon-courtyard-house-2/
http://mgerwingarch.com/2014/11/10/sunshine-canyon-courtyard-house-2/#commentsMon, 10 Nov 2014 22:53:49 +0000http://mgerwingarch.com/?p=7058In a collaboration with ACI Design:Build, we have been working on the design for a new house up on Sunshine Canyon.

Built on the site of a house lost to the Fourmile Wildfire, this house has been designed to be highly tuned, or optimized to its spectacular panoramic site.

With views spanning over 270 degrees, from the level plains of eastern Colorado and Denver beyond, to the 12,000 foot high peaks of the Rocky Mountain Indian Peaks Wilderness, this house disperses itself radially to take in these views while simultaneously creating a sheltered interior courtyard to create a protected area away from the ridge’s incessant winds.

The base of the house rises out of the rocky landscape with a lower level of battered buff sandstone. The main level of the house is composed of a rhythmic series of windows and rain screen panels with the exterior walls shifting inward and projecting out toward the view. The overall shape of the house is like a slightly warped horseshoe enclosing a large entry court. Flanking terraces on both the east and west sides of the house slope up with the surrounding landscape as the house is both nestled down into the site as well as rising up from the landscape.

The geometry of the house consists of a series of interlocking radial segments, circles within circles, overlapping and echoing like ripples in a pond.

This geometry establishes the rhythm of the sequence of spaces of the house as it attempts to bring in the surrounding landscape. The shifting views from the house, from the rising sun over the flat plains to sun setting over the jagged peaks, tracks around the house as the sun progresses across the sky. That daily progress becomes an embedded sundial that organizes the house.

On a much larger temporal scale, the curving roof of the house shifts its relationship with the spaces below and their associated windows to modulate the amount of sunlight entering into the house during the different months of the year. Allowing full sunlight deep into the house in January, the radiant concrete slab acts as a warming thermal mass. In the summer, the wide, radial overhangs blocks the daytime sunlight and the house remains cool and shaded while still allowing huge expanses of glass to take in the panoramic views.

Every house really does act as both a clock and a calendar, marking the daylight and the seasons, whether we design for it or not. Best to let that guide the shape of the house in such an open and exposed site, a carefully tuned timepiece carefully resting between earth and sky.

Older cemeteries within the city are some of the most interesting urban structures. Almost every city has at least one remaining cemetery sitting in what has become a vital part of the city. This doesn’t compare to the number of cemeteries that are moved by municipal authorities as they have become surrounded by houses and shops and their land value has greatly exceeded their cultural and historic value. Paradoxically, what “saves” most old cemeteries is often not their status as hallowed ground nor their famous inhabitants, but the nature of the living “park” that the cemetery has become. Nature trumps culture.

On a recent visit to Boulder’s Columbia Cemetery, what is most striking, even more so than the poignancy of the small, worn gravestones, was the use of the necropolis as a place for dog-walking, strolling and making out. A fairly lively place.

I had thought I would write a post about the architecture of the cemetery, its layout and the different neighborhoods that make up place – military graves in one corner, older stones tightly spaced, etc. However, amongst the throngs of running dogs, cellphone squawking talkers and huddle lovers, it was more difficult to study this than I had imagined.

Unlike the cemeteries of the older East Coast cities and Chicago that I have visited, Columbia is not full of the ornate sculptural markers of pre-Raphaelite angels and mourning cloths. It does have plenty of simple, modest markers signalling maybe a simple life, simply lived, one of so many.

So normally I would suggest a visit to your local cemetery, to walk around the markers and spend a quiet afternoon. But don’t go for that. It is really too crowded with the living to pay attention to the dead. In Boulder, go to the cemetery – go and enjoy a nice park without runners, without cyclists, without cross-training tri-athletes, without any “sports” at all except the eternal battle of dog versus squirrel.

(re-posted from October 2010)

]]>http://mgerwingarch.com/2014/10/29/columbia-cemetery-necropolis/feed/0Charles Deaton’s Englewood Bankhttp://mgerwingarch.com/2014/10/24/charles-deatons-englewood-bank/
http://mgerwingarch.com/2014/10/24/charles-deatons-englewood-bank/#commentsFri, 24 Oct 2014 15:46:01 +0000http://mgerwingarch.com/?p=7038Most Coloradans are familiar with Charles Deaton’s Sculptural House located on that prominent hill in Genessee. Made famous in Woody Allen’s film The Sleeper, it is likely more contemplatively seen while sitting in Saturday morning ski traffic on I-70.

Deaton’s most interesting work however may be the Keys Savings and Loan building south of Denver in Englewood.

I say this because while the Sleeper House is beautifully sculptural and plastically enthralling, as a house it is daring but not outside of the realm of extreme residential architecture.

The bank however is another story. For a couple of centuries, banks have emphasized their strength and solidity through their architecture. Maybe more than any other typology, the architecture of banks have exercised a clear paradigm of using historical forms to lend gravitas to the institution. In most cities you can drive through the downtown and easily identify the bank buildings by their clear, straight-forward neo-classical fronts. Even long after the banking company may have moved out, the building is profoundly and unmistakenly a bank.

In the 1960s, especially with the advent of the drive up bank, these forms begin to change. The curving drive paths of cars certainly inspired a great number of curving canopies and larger building forms. However, none are more radical than Deaton’s Key Savings building.

The curving concrete forms are mollusk-like, carefully opening up at the entry and displaying its protective shell along the street. The building is tough and secure and in that defensiveness it continues that tradition of creating a series of forms that clearly demonstrate the security and safety of the vault contained within. Deaton’s choice of almost explicitly nature-inspired forms to demonstrate this character is such a sharp contrast from the tradition of neo-classical architecture standing firm in its conservative cloth.

I am not an account holder there, but it must feel pretty special to walk into this place, embraced by this massive shell, and take part in the mundane business of deposits and withdrawals. I wonder if the nature of the institution as a savings and loan, rather than a traditional retail bank, gave the board of directors the freedom and vision to take on such an unusual form to represent their work.

This is a strange, marine-like world, wonderful to visit. However, working there it all might be a bit too much, like the smothering hugs from a buxom aunt or an opium-tinged trip down the rabbit hole.